One Candlelit Christmas Read online

  Not that it was completely impossible that she might yet marry. She’d go to London with Faith in the spring, accompany her little sister to all the events of the Marriage Mart. But by then she’d be more than ten years older than her sister and the other girls making their bows, she would likely be consigned to wearing caps and sitting with the dowagers.

  Besides, unlike many of the maidens soon to join Faith in the drawing rooms of society, Meredyth cherished no dreams of wedding for wealth or title. She’d already sidestepped the rich neighbour who’d come wooing, wishing to join her dowry lands with his. And gently rebuffed an old family friend—a widowed viscount looking for a new mama for his clan. Possessed of a valued place among her family, a budding brood of nieces and nephews to spoil, land and a dower house in which to live once Colton brought home a bride to be the new mistress of Wellingford, she would not give her heart, her worldly possessions and her future to a husband in exchange for anything less than a love as powerful as that she’d felt for James.

  Turning to give the bed one last lingering glance, Meredyth sighed and walked out. Despite Allen Mansfell’s ability to make her senses zing, demonstrating that passion burned within her still, for a lady as long in the tooth as Meredyth Wellingford, finding true love again would take a miracle.

  Savouring a glass of spiced wine in the parlour below, Allen Mansfell propped an elbow against the mantel and looked on indulgently as Miss Faith Wellingford tried—with no success—to flirt with his brother Thomas, who alternately teased and ignored her while discussing with Colton a proposed hunting expedition for the morrow.

  A pretty enough child, Miss Faith resembled her older sister Elizabeth, said to be the beauty of family, who’d recently married his friend Hal Waterman. With her lovely face and artless charm, Miss Faith would probably have little problem finding a suitable husband next spring when, as she had earnestly informed him, she’d be making her debut.

  At the thought, Allen suppressed a quiver of distaste. Next spring would probably find him back in London as well. Though after Susanna’s faithlessness part of him recoiled at the thought of ever offering his hand and name to another lady. Once his initial hurt and fury had abated, he had recognised that the reason he’d first sought her out—a desire to marry, settle down on his estate and delight his mama by providing her with grandchildren—would propel him back to Marriage Mart again. Not that he had any intention this time of risking his heart.

  Unfortunately the London Season provided the most convenient and comprehensive gathering of maidens of suitable breeding and lineage from which a gentleman might find a wife. Though it was ludicrous to think of choosing an infant like Faith.

  It had been Susanna’s confident self-assurance that had first caught his interest last spring. Unlike most of the other maidens, she had been able to converse intelligently—and flirt alluringly—instead of falling into giggles or blushing at every word he uttered. To say nothing of the blatant promise of her lush body…

  Angrily he thrust away the memories. He’d raged and mourned long enough. He would not allow her perfidy to cast a damper over his spirits any longer.

  If he were compelled to wade into the waters of the Marriage Mart once again, he thought, Miss Faith’s sister Meredyth would be much more to his taste. Tall, slender, her hair a paler blonde that the gold of her little sister’s, her eyes grey-blue rather than cerulean, she carried herself with a graceful elegance. And then there’d been that surprising spark of awareness, accompanied by a jolt of warmth that had fairly burned through his gloves when he’d foolishly uttered that naughty remark about how comfortable she could make him. Elegance and—unlike Susanna—integrity in one subtly sensuous body made for quite an arresting combination.

  Nor had he been mouthing empty phrases when he’d complimented her on the management of Wellingford. He’d been genuinely impressed by the well-tended fields, fences and cottages past which they’d ridden, their excellent condition all the more impressive considering in what a shambles the entire estate had been just a few years ago.

  Randolph Wellingford’s profligate habits, addiction to gaming and shocking neglect of his estate had been quite the on-dit when Allen had first left Oxford for London. Indeed, many at his club had murmured it was a blessing for the family when the man met an early death, riding out half-foxed one cold winter morning in an attempt to win some ridiculous wager. Meredyth Wellingford must be intelligent, diligent and a thrifty manager to have accomplished so much at Wellingford.

  A thought struck him then, as appealing as it was sudden. If he must marry—and marry he must—why not choose a more mature lady? One he knew by reputation to possess a sterling character and by personal observation to have the skills necessary to be mistress of a large estate? An older lady who might be as amenable as he to a marriage based on similar tastes and mutual respect? A lady whose subtle attractiveness promised satisfaction of his appetites without the torment of lust and jealousy Susanna had roused in him?

  A lady who just happened to be planning to accompany her little sister to London for the upcoming Season…

  Allen swallowed the last of his wine and set down his glass, smiling. He’d use this few days’ sojourn at Wellingford to become better acquainted with his charming hostess. And if he continued to be as impressed—and titillated—by Meredyth Wellingford as he’d been upon their first meeting, he might just have found the answer to his marriage dilemma.

  Chapter Two

  At midmorning the next day, Meredyth left the housekeeper and proceeded to the drawing room. Noting with approval that the extra side-tables she’d requested to accommodate serving refreshments for a houseful of guests were already in place, she walked to the window. Stealing a moment’s respite from the array of chores still before her, she gazed over the front lawn towards the forest.

  Colton had announced at breakfast his intention to hunt later in the Home Wood, boasting that he’d bring back some pheasant to grace their Christmas table. Having not seen their other guests yet this morning, she didn’t know if Thomas and Allen Mansfell had accompanied him or not.

  Excited as she was by the imminent arrival of the rest of her family, Meredyth still felt on edge. Despite the severe lecture she’d given herself before going down to dinner last night, upon encountering Allen Mansfell she’d experienced the same pull of attraction and quiver of response he’d surprised from her at their first meeting.

  If anything, she recalled with a little frown, her reaction had been more intense. Attractive as Mr Mansfell was in casual riding clothes, in formal black dinner dress, his arresting green eyes mirroring the glow of the Christmas candles Faith had added to the table in honour of the season, he’d been handsome enough to steal her breath. Even after her pulse had steadied she’d had to remind herself to stop staring and turn her attention to her other guests, so automatically had her gaze seemed to drift back to him.

  And when he had looked at her…Though her dinner gown had boasted only a modest décolletage, it had seemed she could almost feel his gaze burn the bare skin of her chest and shoulders.

  Which was, of course, ridiculous. With only two ladies present at dinner, one of them many years his junior and trying to catch the eye of his younger brother, naturally Mr Mansfell had often looked her way during the meal. She should hope her conversation was more sophisticated and interesting than that of a chit just emerging from the schoolroom.

  Though she couldn’t now recall what they had discussed.

  ‘Miss Wellingford, will you be riding out later?’

  The sudden appearance behind her of the very gentleman about whom she’d been thinking made her jump. As she turned to face him, a guilty flush heating her cheeks, the sweep of his gaze across her completely clothed neck and shoulders elicited a quiver deep in her belly, while the deep velvet timbre of his voice made her think of murmured confidences in the bedchamber.

  Heavens, what was it about him that produced such an effect in her? Feeling herself flush hotter, s
he cursed her fair skin as she tried to wrestle her unruly senses under control. ‘Colton and Thomas mean to hunt this afternoon,’ she replied. ‘If you wish to join them, I’m sure our head groom can find you a suitable mount.’

  With a wry grimace, he shook his head. ‘Thank you, but I’ll leave the pheasants to them. Unless Thomas’s marksmanship has improved dramatically since the last time we went out, the birds are safe enough. After my stint in the army, I’ve lost my taste for unnecessary hunting.’

  Merry nodded her head in quick sympathy. ‘You were at Waterloo, Thomas informed us. Though it must have been dreadful, he told us you provided gallant service, galloping from unit to unit carrying Wellington’s messages, despite the hail of rifle balls and cannon shot.’

  Mansfell’s mouth turned grim. ‘Don’t be thinking me a hero. ’Twas blind luck only that I survived the battle unscathed. Nor was there anything heroic about carrying orders that sent scores of men to their deaths.’

  ‘And prevented the collapse of the Allied lines,’ she inserted swiftly, castigating herself for having brought up the subject. Even deep in the country as Wellingford was, she was acquainted with three families whose sons or brothers had not returned from the battle, and the soldiers she knew who had survived seldom talked of it.

  Before she could apologise, Mansfell gave her a smile. ‘Forgive me for snapping at you. ’Tis Christmas—no time for such dismal reflections! One thing about surviving a catastrophe is that it makes you all the more eager to savour every delight of the present. In that regard, if you are riding out this afternoon, I should very much like to accompany you. I’m eager to see more of Wellingford.’

  Such a simple request, but Merry found herself unable to return a quick answer. Allen Mansfell seemed to possess some…force—an aura that surrounded him and drew her to him, stirred her senses, made her intensely aware of him all the time she was in his presence. Attracted as she was—and she was so attracted—she was not at all sure she wished to invite his company. Particularly if the two of them would be riding alone.

  Still, being on horseback would require her to maintain her distance—perhaps far enough away from him to extinguish the idiotic desire that kept creeping over her to brush the hair back from his brow or rest her hand on his arm. Besides, an excellent natural rider, she knew she showed to advantage on horseback.

  She might be a spinster past her last prayers, but she still couldn’t help wanting such an attractive man to see her at her best.

  While she hesitated, he said, ‘Excuse me! I didn’t wish to impose. I know you must have many duties.’

  It was tempting to agree—except he’d found her dawdling in front of the window, obviously not in a tearing rush to finish some urgent task. He was also a guest whom it was her duty to entertain, and there were few enough amusements to be had in winter, far from the inducements of London. And she had intended to ride out…

  ‘I do need to inspect the Yule log and check the progress to the repairs at the Dower House. You are welcome to join me—if you’re certain you wouldn’t find tagging along on such trivial errands a dead bore?’

  ‘Time spent in your company could never be boring,’ Mansfell replied, and that velvet edge was in his voice again, while the leisurely glance he trailed up and down her body made little shivers stir once again in her belly. ‘Repairs to the Dower House, you said?’ he continued.

  ‘Repairs and renovations, yes,’ she replied, trying to stifle her distressing, seemingly instinctive reaction to his voice. ‘As Colton said, some day soon he shall bring home a bride and I shall need another place to live.’

  There—she’d just warned him again that she was on the shelf. That should put an end to his gallantry, if such it was.

  Mansfell merely nodded. ‘I would be most interested to see them. I’ve just assembled a list of all the dwellings on Papa’s properties in need of repair or refurbishment. You have done such an excellent job here at Wellingford that I should very much like to see how you are conducting your repairs to the Dower House.’

  So much for gallantry—on his part, anyway. Obviously she was reading far too much into his voice and gaze. He merely admired her abilities as chatelaine of Wellingford and was interested to see a fuller demonstration of them.

  Thank heavens she had not tried to flirt with him! They could be friends, as she and Thomas were friends, sharing an interest in estate management, house repair and other such prosaic things. Even with a man as handsome and dynamic as Allen Mansfell, she could handle being friends.

  ‘I’ll have Twilling let you know when I’m ready to ride out,’ she said, curtseying as she turned to go. Once again conscious of his gaze resting on her back, she walked to the stairs, ignoring the little voice in her ear whispering that while desire for him simmered in her belly, their becoming ‘friends’ was as dangerous as it was unlikely.

  A short time later Twilling found her, to announce that Sarah and her family had arrived. Delight filling her at the prospect of seeing again the older sister who’d been her lifelong mentor, confidante and friend, Meredyth hurried to the parlour.

  ‘Nicky—Sarah!’ she cried, halting on the threshold. After receiving her brother-in-law Lord Englemere’s kiss on her cheek, she tossed herself onto the sofa and enveloped her sister in a fierce hug. ‘Welcome home!’

  ‘It’s wonderful to be back,’ Sarah said, returning her hug just as fiercely. ‘And how wonderful Wellingford looks! The new marble floor and the hall’s plasterwork are beautiful!’

  ‘The workmen finished them just in time for Christmas,’ Meredyth said. ‘I must thank you, Nicky, for obtaining such a good price for the harvest that we were able to hire the craftsmen. I must admit, decked out in holly and pine, it reminds me of happy Christmases past.’

  ‘Wellingford never looked this well in Christmases past,’ Sarah said bluntly. ‘Our being together was the best part of Christmas then. It’s your dedicated work that has made the house lovely again.’

  ‘And Nicky’s money,’ Meredyth reminded her.

  ‘Never could I have made a better investment,’ Nicolas replied. ‘You’ve transformed a failing estate into a thriving one in far less time than I’d imagined possible.’

  Warmed by her brother-in-law’s praise, Meredyth inclined her head towards her sister. ‘I had the very best of teachers. But where is my brilliant nephew? So fascinated by his Uncle Hal’s engineering projects that he has run straight off to inspect the new water pump in the kitchen?’

  Nicholas shook his head ruefully. ‘Our son is mesmerised by all things mechanical. I’m afraid he may use this visit as an opportunity to beg Hal to take him along to see his canal project.’

  ‘Aubrey went up to the schoolroom,’ Sarah replied. ‘As the eldest of the cousins, he said he needed to make sure all was in readiness for the other children. Though I suspect he hoped to find some of Cook’s teacakes awaiting him there as well.’

  ‘Dear Aubrey—as serious and responsible as his papa,’ Meredyth said, giving her brother-in-law a fond look. ‘You certainly married a kind and generous man, dear sister.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ Sarah agreed, giving her husband a smile so warmly intimate Meredyth felt a pang of loss—and envy.

  Trying to smother it, she said quickly, ‘You must be chilled. Some spiced wine to warm you after the journey?’

  To her surprise, Sarah paled and put a hand to her stomach. ‘Not for me. Tea and some dry biscuits would settle better, I think.’

  At Meredyth’s widened eyes, Nicholas grinned. ‘I’ll wait until the others arrive for the wine.’ Striding across the room, he bent to place a kiss on his wife’s forehead. ‘Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, sweet Sarah?’

  ‘You could go and make sure Aubrey hasn’t got into mischief.’

  ‘Tell him his Aunt Merry is eager to see him,’ Meredyth added. ‘He can sample Cook’s teacakes just as well in the parlour, you know.’

  Nicholas nodded. ‘I’ll have Twilling sen
d in tea, and leave you two to chat. Let me know if you need anything, sweeting,’ he said, squeezing his wife’s fingers before walking from the room.

  Meredyth waited until he had exited. ‘You’re increasing again?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Nicky is delighted—but concerned.’

  As well he might be, Meredyth thought, already worried herself. Sarah had miscarried a seven-month babe last winter. It had been mostly to console his wife for the devastating loss and to help her recover her health and spirits that he’d squired the whole Wellingford clan on a Grand Tour of Italy and Greece last spring and summer.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Sarah replied. At Meredyth’s pointed look, she said, ‘Well, mostly. You know I’d suffer anything to give Nicky another healthy child. But between feeling sickly and Nicky trying to wrap me in cotton wool, I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you. I’m sorry to be so useless when the gathering will be even larger this year with Sinjin, Clare and Bella staying too. You’re sure it won’t be too much? Sinjin and Clare could probably stay with his mother at Sandiford Court and ride over.’

  Meredyth damped down a pang of dismay deepened by what she feared was a tad of resentment. She had been looking forward to sharing the myriad preparations required to conduct such a large Christmas house party with her competent, resourceful sister—especially since she was still catching up on the many duties neglected during her summer-long absence abroad with the family.

  But how could she resent Sarah? The family wouldn’t be here at Wellingford for Christmas if Sarah hadn’t given up her childhood love Sinjin, then a soldier on the Peninsular with Wellington’s army, to go to London and find a wealthy husband to rescue the estate from foreclosure. Only the intervention of a kind Providence had spurred Nicholas, the former fiancé of Sarah’s friend Clare, into proposing what had been at first a marriage of convenience.